


mortality

by rainysatan



Series: The Originals & The Personals (OC&SI) [1]
Category: Rosario + Vampire
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Harems, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, don't let the sole pairing fool you, just didn't want to clutter the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainysatan/pseuds/rainysatan
Summary: To suffer is a wonderful, terrible thing. Because of its presence in our lives more value is found in the opposite, where we revel in the happiness and pleasure we find in the absence of it. To die is much the same; in our fear of death and the pain it brings, we cling to life and all its joys. But take away one and the other is eventually rendered null. Such an unfulfilled existence leads to a different kind of misery, one that never abates.Anzen Mugen enters Youkai Academy in search of an end and instead finds numerous beginnings. When the solution to Mugen's curse comes into light, it's only understandable that her newfound friends take extreme offense to it.
Relationships: Akashiya Moka/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Originals & The Personals (OC&SI) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164692
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. dark beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I love Rosario + Vampire—the concept of it, and the manga once it grows darker and more heartfelt instead of catering to fanservice. But as always, my lizard lezzie brain says "make it gay, it'll be better!" 
> 
> So, here we go. Hope you enjoy!

Dirt churns and gravel pops underneath the wheels as the bus slows to a stop. A glance outside the finger-streaked windows confirms that she’s reached her destination, and thus Mugen stands with a sluggish blink and a sleep weakened hand clutching at the strap of her bag. She edges through the walkway, aware of all the empty seats without even ghosts to see her off, and stops just short of the steps. The bus driver doesn’t turn away from the wheel despite Mugen’s unmoving presence.

Finally, after having been silent the whole ride from her boring hometown to this dreadful bus stop in the middle of nowhere, Mugen voices her question.

“This headmaster guy . . . is he the real deal?” The morning air feels coldly crisp flowing into her lungs despite the dry, bleak terrain and the crashing red sea lapping at the cliffs like boiling blood. “He can help me?”

“If you let him,” is the chuckled reply that answers her. The bus driver chews on his cigar while Mugen frowns. “He typically has solutions so long as you agree to them. However, the answers to problems as complicated as yours can be quite. . . messy, I find.”

“That’s vague.”

The bus driver shrugs his shoulders. His eyes glows beneath his cap like burning moons when he smiles, finally turning his head to focus them on her. His canines are overly apparent when his teeth bare. “You should be asking him then, not me. Now get, you’re going to be late for the opening ceremony.”

Mugen sighs and steps off the bus. The doors close with an ancient creak and the exhaust spits out black flumes when the engine sputters to life. Slowly, the bus circles and makes its way back into the tunnel. She stares after it for a long moment and can almost still hear the bus driver’s laughter. Shaking her head, she turns to appraise her surroundings.

_Dark, it’s dark, dark, dark, so dark, dark like us—_

She ignores the hissing.

A scarecrow topped with a pumpkin head carries a sign, welcoming the reader. Dead trees claw for the sky without water and leave large, creeping shadows on the ground. Tangled bushes sparsely dotted with leaves but more decorated with thorns make up the entirety of the undergrowth. A bat hangs from one corpse of a tree, sleeping soundly, and the only bird calls were that of crows, a murder of them observing her with beady orbs and twitching heads in the branches above. Below them a patch of land cuts through the woods in a winding path, barren and wide enough to be called a road. On the opposing cliffside, past the woods, she can see the academy, making the journey ahead of her obvious.

If she were any other normal person— _freak, freak, freak, you’re a freak_ —Mugen might be wary of traversing such haunted looking woods. Luckily, or unluckily if you were her, she considers herself cursed enough that no other misery could deter her. Willfully oblivious to her dark environment, Mugen rolls up her sleeves and starts making the trek to Youkai Academy. She only hopes she’ll get there before classes actually began. Her shadow walks alongside her, a stalwart yet ever shifting constant while she follows the singular trail that wound through the woods. The long black stretches out from her feet and thins, shrinks and widens as she kicks up dirt mindlessly, wishing she had remembered to bring earbuds.

Twenty or so minutes in and after checking her phone that has no cell service, Mugen knows the opening ceremony must have finished. She huffs and considers the path before her as she continues walking, stuffing her phone back in her pocket. Hefting her bag over one shoulder, she bumps up the pace. Though she dreads the coming introductions and mindless drum of other students catching up that came with every first day of school, she’d rather that than have everyone stare at her for being late.

_Whirrrr._

Mugen pauses, ears primed. The noise sounds again, and then again, a continuous rhythm in the distance that grows closer.

“Watch out!”

Mugen flinches and jumps to the side, bug-eyed at narrowly avoiding the bike that bursts through the trees. A cry comes from the rider as the bike crashes and they’re thrown from the bike. A cloud of dust plumes upwards from the impact, the tire wheels spinning relentlessly even with the bike laying on its side. Unhelpfully, Mugen waves away at the dust and stares at the crumpled form of a girl who groans weakly, mumbling under her breath as she props herself up on her arms. “Are you alright?”

The girl startles and her eyes—green, deep green, _serene_ and _calming_ —shoot to Mugen’s dull gray. “Oh, no—I mean, yes—I mean I’m—I’m so sorry, I almost hit you!”

“Almost, but not quite, so it’s fine,” Mugen mutters, stepping forward and offering the girl a hand. She tries to ignore the way the girl’s gaze drops to the scars. “Are you okay? That kind of looked like it hurt.”

The girl with green eyes shakes her head, smiling weakly in a shy sort of way as she looks from Mugen’s hand to her face. Mugen is dimly glad there’s no judgement on her face as she accepts Mugen’s hand without hesitation and stands. “I’m alright, just scrapes. My anemia kicks in at the worst times—”

Abruptly, the stranger clasping Mugen’s hand sways, and falls into her.

“Woah, hold up,” Mugen freezes as the girl’s head rests easily in the crook of her neck. Mugen can feel the girl’s lips against her neck, a hot breath escaping between them and prompting Mugen’s face to heat up at the unusual proximity. Suddenly, the girl tenses and mumbles something against her neck.

Mugen strains her ears. “Hey, what— _yowch_!?”

Two sharp pinpricks insert themselves into her neck. Mugen can only imagine the pain to be from the girl’s teeth finding their way into Mugen’s neck, but can only stare into the trees numbly.

_She’s biting us, biting, it hurts, she’s eating us, she’ll eat us alive, why are you letting her bite us, will you let her or will you—_

It hurts, but Mugen winces more from shock than pain while clutching at the girl’s shoulder blades in reflex. Is she really being bit right now?

Her mind is floating away as all too soon the sensation turns into something else entirely. The girl’s mouth closes over her neck more comfortably, a wet heat where she could feel the girl sucking against the vein throbbing under her tongue. Mugen clenches her hands around the girl’s jacket, unsure of how name the feeling tingling in her neck, trying to tell herself to pull the girl off of her, because she’s biting her, and—it’s bad, isn’t it?

_Bad, it’s bad, it’s bad, but it’s warm, when was the last time we were—_

The stranger returns to herself before Mugen can. The hands wrapped around Mugen’s back move instead to her shoulders, and shove. Mugen’s nearly thrown off her feet as the girl struggles to get away from her, shame and self-loathing twisting the stranger’s expression into something painful. Mugen stumbles away open-mouthed, disoriented. Her hand presses to her neck.

“Oh, no, no. . .” The stranger almost seems to struggle with herself and sways even still, but from something other than weakness. Mugen’s blood lingers on her lips like lipstick. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just—I couldn’t help it!”

“What the hell?” Mugen finds her voice. She pulls her hand away from the bite. There are no traces of blood on the skin of her hand but there’s also no mistaking that the girl had just sucked her blood. “You couldn’t help _biting_ me? Is there a new meaning to anemic or something?”

The girl flinches and licks her lips nervously, grabbing at her elbows in an uncomfortable display. The smear left behind from Mugen’s blood is erased by the pink of her tongue. “No, no. I just—it’s just . . . I’m a vampire. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave a bad impression, I just didn’t think to pack more bags or juice before I came, I was in such a rush, and I was so hungry. . .”

Mugen blinks over the girl’s stammering. “Wait, wait, did you just say _vampire_?”

“Yes,” the girl confirms slowly, green, _green_ eyes drifting to the ground.

Mugen pauses. She’s just been bit. Allegedly, by a vampire. Her mind still feels disconnected from her body, but her body is at least obeying the messages being relayed to it. She rubs a hand down her face and peers at the girl over her hands. A few months ago, she wouldn’t be even considering what she was being told, but given Mugen’s own unbelievable situation, who’s to say vampires don’t exist? Finally, “Okay, first, don’t you guys have like—red eyes? And can’t come out during the day?”

The vampire—again, allegedly—shakes her head. Her hand comes up, pale fingers pressing against the rosary Mugen only just now notices. The cross shines a dull silver in the dim lighting filtering through the dead trees. The eye of the rosary is ruby red and glinting as Mugen focuses on it. Somehow, she gets the feeling it’s staring back at her. “That’s only in our true form, though most of us are unsealed. And the sun doesn’t bother us either way.”

Mugen spares the cross another second of a glance before focusing back on the girl. “Right.” Like that made a lick of sense to Mugen. Seals and true forms? But maybe that’s why she’s only just now finding out vampires exist. “So, you bit me. Does that mean I’m going to turn into a vampire?”

“That’s not . . . really how that works, so, no.”

“What about, like, garlic and stakes through the heart? Is that a myth too?”

“Garlic is more something we’re allergic to than something fatal,” the girl answers slowly. She looks uncomfortable now that the line of questioning has ventured into the methods of how to theoretically murder her. “And anything to the heart has the potential to kill us, depending on our power and whether we’re sealed or not.”

_Kill? Kill, kill? We’ll kill? Kill, kill, kill, killing is warm, living is warm, biting is warm—_

Mugen takes a moment to study the tense shoulders and downcast expression of the girl. Despite biting her, she seemed genuinely apologetic, with an honesty to her words that could be felt. On the fence but willing to give the benefit of the doubt, Mugen sighs. “Alright. I believe you—I _think_ —so I suppose I can let it go. Just don’t go biting me without asking anymore, alright?”

_Bite us, bite us, bite us. . ._

The vampire balks. “You’re not mad?”

Mugen shrugs. “I guess not. If you’re telling the truth, you couldn’t help it. Just don’t starve yourself to the point you try and eat me again and we’re good.”

The girl beams, relief evident on her face. “I promise I won’t! Thank you, I really didn’t mean to start off my first day at a new school like this but I’m glad it was with someone willing to try and understand.”

“Yeah, I don’t see it having gone over as well with anyone else,” Mugen snorts. “What’s your name, Miss Vampire?”

The girl blinks. “Uh, my name?”

“Yeah, unless you want me to keep calling you girl in my head, or Miss Vampire? But I don’t think you want that.” Mugen points out.

“Oh, n-no, thank you. It’s . . . Moka. Akashiya Moka.” Moka executes a small bow, and her glossy pink hair nearly touches the ground at the downward sweep of her head. “Nice to meet you. And—and may I know yours?”

Mugen smiles at the formality. “Anzen Mugen.”

“Then, Anzen-san?”

Holding up a hand, Mugen tuts. “Mugen, if you please. Anzen is pretty formal when we’re already on necking terms.”

Moka blushes. “N-necking? Ah—that’s—I didn’t—!”

Turning her head away, Mugen tries in vain to keep her lips sealed in a firm line as her shoulders shake minutely. Moka gasps indignantly at the sight, realizing she’s been had.

“Are you teasing me?!”

Mugen lets herself laugh. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Anz—Mugen-san, that isn’t nice!”

“I’m not nice. But I am late, and I reckon so are you.”

“Oh! You’re right! But. . .” Moka trails off, staring forlornly at the wrecked bike, wheels bent. Mugen takes a glance at it herself, before shaking her head and walking over. Grabbing the bike in one hand, Mugen turns and gestures to the road.

“Come on, I’ll carry it for you.”

Moka’s gaze hesitantly flits between the bike and Mugen. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Mugen says. “Besides, we’re going the same way, and I can’t in good conscious leave you to it after the tumble you took.”

“Even if I bit you?” Moka asks.

“Eh. It didn’t hurt that bad. And you needed it, so. Yeah.” Mugen starts walking, regardless of whether Moka was following or not. “You’ll come to find I typically roll with whatever comes my way. Now come on, I don’t want to start my day off with a tardy. We can see what we can do about your bike later.”

“Ah, okay! And, um, thank you again.”

* * *

They’re not actually late, but they cut it close.

They chain up Moka’s wrecked bike and Mugen rolls down her sleeves as soon as they enter the main building. They get their schedules from the administration office and realize they’re heading to the same class when they both bring up their schedules to try and figure out which way to head. Despite the circumstances, Mugen’s kind of relieved to know someone—in her homeroom, at least—and Moka tentatively shares the sentiment before Mugen can even voice it. Just as quickly, Mugen jokingly considers rethinking her opinion as Moka awes over the gothic architecture even as they rush in what they think is they right direction to their classroom.

The class number they’re looking for is labelled on an overhanging sign above an unassuming door, dull chatter coming from within, and they share a look before Mugen opens the door and gestures for Moka to head inside. Immediately, the thrum of student voices goes silent as numerous eyes fall on them. The bell rings mockingly that very moment.

Mugen is quick to look away from the sea of judgmental gazes and ensuing whispers— _they’re whispering about us, can you hear them, why aren’t you listening, they know_ —when the teacher standing in front of the desk addresses them. Bizarrely, the blond hair arranged in cat-like tufts atop the teacher’s head twitches. “Nya. . . welcome to your homeroom class, ladies! It’s lucky that you got here when you did! My name is Nekonome-sensei. I was just about to perform roll call, so you can go ahead and find any open seat to sit in and wait until I call for you to announce yourself.”

“Thank you,” Mugen and Moka chorus.

Mugen doesn’t get the chance to look around for a seat when Moka grasps at her arm. “Mugen-san, look, there’s two seats over there!” Moka points out lowly. Mugen looks, and yes, there’s two seats, one behind the other and both pressed against the wall underneath the classroom’s long windows. “We can sit beside each other, if that’s okay?”

Mugen only has to glance at Moka’s eyes to see the pleading in them. What makes this girl, this vampire, think that Mugen’s worth hanging around, Mugen doesn’t know, but for now she figures it’s okay to indulge Moka. She nods and allows Moka to guide her to the seat. Moka takes the first seat, and so Mugen sits behind Moka. Moka turns around, face full of gratitude as she beams at Mugen. Roll call begins and Mugen ignores the warm stirring in her chest.

_Warm, warm, warm, she’s warm, warm. . ._

Class begins. Introductions pass, and Mugen keeps her short and simple, Moka’s sweet and shy in comparison. Mugen keeps her hands pressed face down on her desk.

“Alright, nya! Now as all you already know, this school was founded on the concept of monsters learning to coexist with humans in the human world, albeit in disguise.”

_Monsters, monsters, monsters, monsters hiding, look at them, they’re hiding, just like you. Do you see them?_

Mugen takes a moment to process that the first words her teacher says to her class are loony. _What?_ Her brow furrows, but no one else reacts to what their sensei says when she looks around. Her classmates act like this is the norm and in front of her Moka has turned back around to nod at the teacher’s statement.

Nekonome-sensei continues, and Mugen can see a golden tail rise out from behind her as her hair tufts— _those are really ears!_ Mugen realizes—twitch again. “As such, you’re all expected to stay in your human forms and keep your true self a secret even to other students and faculty, save for our medical staff. Consider it like an ongoing test that lasts up until you leave Youkai Academy. Slip up, and you fail!”

Some brave—or stupid—soul raises a hand to interrupt. Mugen is too busy wondering if she’s dreaming, or even hallucinating, to notice Nekonome-sensei pause.

With Nekonome-sensei’s attention on him, the student’s raised hand turns to point at her visible monster features. “Then, does that mean you fail too, Nekonome-sensei?” he says cheekily.

_Kitty, kitty, kitty. . ._

Disturbingly, Nekonome-sensei’s closed eyes slide open a fraction in a deadly glare. Before anyone can react, the brave fool is sporting a hashmark of bloody scratches across his face. His hands come up again only to cover his face with a pained yelp and whimpered apologies.

 _I don’t think that’s legal,_ Mugen distantly thinks. _But if this is a school for monsters, I’m not sure if human laws apply._

No one says anything as Nekonome-sensei closes her eyes again, though she’s behind the desk as opposed to in front of it now, and her unending smile has lowered a fraction. Her bright, happy tone remains even though there’s a touch of danger to it.

Everyone forcefully ignores the whining student as Nekonome-sensei goes on, “Now, be aware that for the first week, the punishments for violating this rule aren’t that severe! But beyond that the penalty will grow and you could even face suspension or worse, expulsion! So be good children and stay in your human form for Nekonome-sensei, won’t you?”

Everyone nods, save for Mugen and another student sitting directly to Mugen’s right. Mugen palms her forehead, swallowing thickly. She isn’t afraid but she doesn’t know how to feel other than that.

_So, I’m not the only freak out there?_

If Mugen hadn’t believed Moka before, she believes her now, especially as the student to her right sports a long, slimy tongue that extends outwards and wriggles, making her cringe as she catches sight of the appendage in her peripherals.

The owner of the tongue sports several piercings, an undone tie and open jacket, and cold, dark eyes that scan the room maliciously. Casually, while throwing his legs up and crossing them on his desk, he remarks, “But Nekonome-sensei, I don’t see the point in hiding. Never have when we’re so much stronger than them. Even ten of them don’t amount to one of us. Why do we need to _blend in_ when we can conquer?”

“Komiya Saizou-kun, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Nekonome-sensei frowns, considering the obvious delinquent that voiced his opinion. “Then, Komiya-kun, the reality is that we’re outnumbered. Despite our supernatural strength, we would be overrun by the sheer size of the human race and their technology.

“On top of that, many of the monster races are already on the edge of extinction. Any losses sustained on our side may result in the end of an entire race. So theoretically, we could win the battle but not the war. Not to mention, some monsters rely on the human race for survival, as either a food source or for their energy, so even _their_ extinction would spell doom for others.”

“Tch. Has anyone even tried or is this all just speculation? I don’t see why we can’t kill off all the men and enslave the women for our own.” Saizou’s tongue flicks out and he inhales as though in bliss at the very idea. “We can make more as we need them. . . can’t be that hard, can it?”

Mugen feels sick at the implications.

Several other girls, and even boys she notices, despite their newfound status as monsters, voice disgust at the proposal. Saizou laughs, enjoying the negative attention. “What? I’m not the only one thinking it!”

Nekonome-sensei smiles so sharply that even Saizou shifts warily, laugh petering off. “ _Nyaaa_. . . Well, Komiya-kun, you could make the attempt yourself, but know that few would join you and most would look at you like you were mad, and such a rash decision is tantamount to suicide. But my role is to educate—what you do with the knowledge is up to entirely to you. Even if no teacher likes to see their student blatantly court death.”

Somewhat cowed by Nekonome’s sudden frosty demeanor and wary of her claws, Saizou scoffs but makes no further comments. And just like that, class proceeds. The first day is more just going over what they’ll be covering throughout the school year, what rules need to be followed, and where to go for remedial lessons if a student isn’t up to snuff. Easy, easy enough for Mugen to space out and mull over the reality in front of her that seemed so obvious, yet she’s been blind to it this whole time.

 _Monsters are real,_ she thinks to herself.

Then, _Maybe . . . that’s what I am? A monster?_

But Moka is a vampire. Nekonome-sensei is obviously some sort of feline, a cat monster or demon if Mugen decided to take from her obvious name, and the guy next to her . . . she doesn’t even know what he is. They were all different. Does that mean Mugen has her own race?

Or was she just. . .

Mugen frowns down at her desk, scratching at the chipped wood. Perhaps the school’s library holds some of the answers she seeks, even what she sought might be obvious to her classmates. Barring that, she still has a date with the headmaster—the man running the show, who promised her a solution to her problem, who maintains a school full of monsters beneath the nose of the human race.

Yes, if he doesn’t have the answers, then Mugen doesn’t know where else to turn.

* * *

For a dreary realm separated from the human world, the sky still proved to be a glorious blue, and the wind clean. _Perks of being away from the city_ , Mugen supposes. _There’s no factories or light pollution. I wonder if the night sky looks as nice? I bet there’s more stars._

Moka gently drops down beside Mugen on the bench. She’s close enough that their sides brush when Moka extends the extra drink in her hand to Mugen. They’re shadows blend together in the afternoon sun.

“An official apology,” Moka says as Mugen stares at the drink in her hand, “for me drinking your blood without consent.”

“Way to make it sound like a violation, Moka-san,” Mugen laughs and takes the cold can. Moka turns the faintest bit red but her pale skin makes it blatantly visible. Huh. Was that Mugen’s blood, rushing to her cheeks? Or did vampires have their own blood flow? “Will you hold it against me if I don’t like it? I haven’t tried this flavor before. I typically just drink pop.”

“It’s okay if you don’t like it, so long as you’re willing to try it to find out,” Moka replies sweetly.

“Well, alright. Here goes.” It’s disgusting, actually, but Mugen swallows anyways. She makes a face that sends Moka into a fit of giggles when she pulls the can from her lips.

“Gross?” Moka asks.

Mugen nods. “Absolutely revolting. Thanks.”

And then Mugen chugs the rest.

“You don’t have to do that!” Moka laughs, though she’s enjoying the show. “I’m sorry, it’s okay. You can throw it away.”

“I don’t like to waste,” Mugen says with vague disgust on her face from the taste. “Plus, it’s a gift from a friend. It’d be rude to throw it away without finishing it. I just ask that you get me something else next time.”

Moka freezes beside her.

“What?” Mugen’s brows pinch together at the stunned expression on Moka’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re friends?” Moka asks quietly.

“I mean, yeah.” Mugen leans back, dropping the hand holding the drink down to her leg. The bottom of the can leaves pleasantly cold rings of condensation on her leg. Their shadows separate as Mugen turns her head to look at Moka clearly. “I like to think we are at least.”

“I bit you,” Moka reminds her.

“Yes, I remember. It only happened this morning.”

“And you still want to be my friend?”

Mugen scoffs. “I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought we weren’t.”

“I just . . . I didn’t think you would, after. I’ve never—it’s never been easy, or simple for me to make friends.”

“It doesn’t have to be hard,” Mugen says, coming to the realization that there’s a deeper issue here than just Moka’s misunderstanding. The vampire’s apparent shyness is beginning to make sense, her hesitance throughout her every interaction with Mugen the symptom of a fear of rejection.

Maybe it’s due to her issue with controlling her hunger, but Moka doesn’t seem like a bad person even with that, or one who would have much trouble making friends or being popular given her compassion and beauty.

But beautiful people are often targets as Mugen has found out early in life. It won’t surprise her if Moka has been subjected to bullying or the like. Cruelty almost always proves to be in more abundance than kindness, as Mugen has personally experienced.

“. . . It was always hard for me.” Moka admits softly, slowly. She swallows. Her green eyes are shining, the dew-like glitter of tears threatening to slip down her face. “Because I’m a vampire, everyone feared me. And in human schools, I was too strange for them, too strong. They wanted to see me cry. They were so hateful, and some of the things they did to try and humiliate me. . .”

Moka grimaces. “Sometimes I had to act like, when they pushed me, they were strong enough to throw me down. Eventually I started thinking that, even if it was safer in human schools for me, I didn’t want to go there. And even if other monsters were afraid of me too, or scorn me, it’d still be better to come to a school like this. A place where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t. To be something I hated.”

“Weak?” Mugen guesses.

Moka shakes her head. “No. Human.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t expect that. For a long moment, Mugen looks down at the drink in her lap, half empty. She stares past it at their shadows, separate and lonely.

What would Moka think if she knew?

“Humans can be cruel. I won’t ever try and argue otherwise. The things they’re capable of. . .” Mugen clenches her hands. “Especially when they’re afraid of things they know nothing about.”

“You understand?” Moka asks, reaching out and putting her hand on Mugen’s arm.

Mugen smiles at her. She wonders if it looks as plastic as it feels curving her lips. “How can I not?”

Moka sighs in relief. “I’m glad. I’m really glad I have a friend who feels the way I do.”

 _Would you be glad if you knew?_ Mugen wonders again. Probably not. But that’s okay. Even if Moka wasn’t, it would only be one more reason for Mugen to cure herself. Mugen pushes those thoughts down. _Maybe in another life_ , she thinks, instead, and the two engage in more conversation.

If Moka is now the more relaxed of the two and Mugen more reluctant, neither notice enough to mention it, their fledgling friendship too new for such comprehension. They return to class and the rest of their periods pass quickly.

* * *

“Should we go check out the dorms?” Moka proposes, after the last bell of the day has rung. She’s twisting a brass key in one hand, a make similar to those in medieval times, though a number adorns the head of it.

“We can,” Mugen says, taking out her own key.

Comparing the numbers, they find their rooms will likely be right beside each other, if not across. A happy coincidence, but Mugen wonders if there’s such a thing as fate. Moka has been nearly attached to her hip before school even began, and now they’ll end the day together as well.

They exit the classroom and Mugen ignores the not-low-enough whispers regarding Moka’s beauty, and how Mugen can’t even be held up in comparison to her due to her sheer gap between them. People are wondering why they’re hanging out together. Thankfully, jealousy is an emotion Mugen finds no need for, save for in one particular instance, and she’s yet to come across a scathing remark close enough to cut her more than her own thoughts, so she pays their passing gossip no mind.

The afternoon sun casts long shadows as they make their way outside of the building. The mill of students steadily disperses as some choose to make detours, or bundle up in pockets of chatter. Still, there’s enough people around for Komiya Saizou to be noticed coming up behind them as they near the girls’ dormitory. Mugen frowns when her shadow is overtaken by another’s, hearing the nervous hushing of students too slow to react comfortably to Saizou’s approach.

Mugen turns her head just as Saizou’s large hand tries to come down on Moka’s shoulder from behind her. Mugen’s not really thinking when she bats it away. She snarls at him. The delinquent blinks slowly at her, lip curling in a sneer as his hand drops to his side and Moka gasps at the suddenness of Mugen’s defense.

“Personal space, much?” Mugen snaps pointedly.

Saizou laughs, raising the offending hand to sweep back his hair. “Apologies, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re going the wrong way, ladies.”

“What do you mean?” Moka asks. “The girls’ dorms are right there.”

Saizou smirks, directing all his attention onto Moka as Mugen folds her arms. “They are, but I don’t think that’s where you want to go.” Cocking a brow and throwing a thumb over his shoulder, he almost oozes with innuendo in his next words. “Because I’ve got a nice, secluded little place back there where we could have some fun. What do you say?”

“No.” Mugen answers for Moka who looks ill at the suggestion.

“I wasn’t asking you, lady.” Saizou looks Mugen up and down, slow and leering. His dark eyes stop on her wrists, just barely peeking out from her sleeves. “But if it makes you wanna live a little more, you’re free to join?”

Mugen’s blood runs hot.

Body shaking and muscles, she takes a step forward.

Moka grabs her arm.

“No, thank you. I don’t appreciate you being rude to me or Mugen-chan, so please leave us alone.” Moka frowns at him. Her anger turns the green of her eyes into glass, sharp and cutting despite her soft personality.

Saizou tries to close the distance even as Moka backsteps, dragging Mugen along with her, who’s distantly surprised she isn’t shaking Moka off in her rage to get at him. “Aw, come on,” he tries, hand outstretched to grab them. “Don’t be like that!”

When Saizou leaps forward, Mugen lashes out with her free arm. It’s too fast for Saizou or Moka to see exactly what happens but the result is Saizou sailing away from them, gritty grains of black trailing from his face as he clutches at his eyes and howls.

Moka looks at Mugen, mouth agape. “What did you do?”

It’s then that Moka sees the darkness that hangs over Mugen like a physical thing, building with Mugen’s deadly intent draping over her like a shroud. Mugen’s eyes are white, pupil graying out to blend in with the bleached iris. 

“Mugen-chan. . .”

Suddenly Moka knows she needs to get Mugen away from here before she does something she can’t take back.

Moka sucks in a breath as Mugen strains to continue her assault, the girl too incensed to speak, but she pulls Mugen along regardless as Saizou’s pained curses and threats are thrown in the air after them. “We need to go; come on, hurry!”

They bolt.

They get to the dorm rooms before Saizou can recover. Moka thuds up the stairs with Mugen in tow who has since stopped resisting with Saizou out of sight. She passes up Mugen’s door and struggles with getting the door unlocked as nerves promote tremors in her hands. Eventually, the key slots into place and Moka pushes the door open, grasping for Mugen again to pull her inside.

She finds the light switch, sees a glimpse of the shadow that crawls back into Mugen’s shape on the floor, having been something else entirely whilst no one was looking. Moka can’t concern herself with that question just yet.

Even if boys aren’t allowed into the girls’ dorms, Moka shuts and locks the door as a precaution, leaning against it with a whoosh of air and letting her eyes fall shut. Her heart is pounding in her chest. She’s all too aware of how vulnerable she is in this form, and how useless she’d be if the conflict Saizou erupted into a full-on fight.

After taking a moment to breathe, she looks to find Mugen staring off into space. There’s a muscle twitching in her friend’s jaw.

“That was scary. Are you okay?” Moka asks, reaching for Mugen’s hand. Mugen offers no resistance as Moka takes it. Moka turns the smaller hand over in her own to see sooty black grains falling from it. It feels like grit under Moka’s fingers but startlingly cold at the same time, like black frost.

“No,” Mugen admits after a minute, looking down at the hand Moka holds, palm upturned. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“That’s okay,” Moka says, thought she has to wonder what _that_ was.

“I just got so angry,” Mugen’s eyes fall with the sand-like particles’ descent onto Moka’s floors. “I’m sorry about your floor. It’s the first time I’m in your room and I’m already making a mess. I can clean it up if you want?”

“That’s alright,” Moka soothes, feeling the straining tendons in Mugen’s hand. “You can’t even really tell so it’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Absently, her thumb rubs at the long scar that stretches past Mugen’s wrist, and she stops when she feels Mugen flinch. She lets go. “I-I’m sorry, that was—”

Mugen grabs her hand.

“Please,” Mugen says. She doesn’t look up from the floor, slowly entwining their fingers. Moka holds her breath as their fingers slot together. Has Moka ever held another’s hand before in this form? “It . . . helps. If you weren’t hanging on to me, I might have done worse. If you let go I can’t promise not to go back and find him right now. It’s—it’s hard to control it, when I’m angry.”

Moka steps closer, peering down at the smaller girl, who looks so jagged at the edges in this moment compared to the way she was put together this morning. “To control what?” she asks, unable to contain the question anymore. She’s never seen anything like the black matter falling onto her floor before, and she can’t deny the curiosity she has about her friend and just who she is. “What are you?”

Mugen looks up sharply. “Aren’t we supposed to keep our true forms secret?”

Mugen’s trying to deflect and Moka knows it. Part of her is screaming at her to let it go, but this is her first friend, the first person to accept her as a vampire. The least she can do is accept her friend for whatever she is and help her with whatever she’s struggling with—but first she has to know what Mugen is to do that. “You already know I’m a vampire,” Moka argues matter-of-factly.

“Why does what I am matter to you?” Mugen asks lowly. “Will it change anything? Are you scared of me now?”

Moka takes a step back at the jump in logic, but squeezes Mugen’s hand despite her confusion. “Why would I be scared?”

Mugen gives a bark of laughter, voice dry. “You saw it didn’t you?”

“Saw what?” Moka asks, befuddled.

“The shadow.”

Moka pauses. Thinks, for a second, about Mugen’s deceptively unassuming silhouette on the floor, and then the darkness hanging over Mugen. The draping shadow that only grew in size as Mugen struggled to get to Saizou. “I’m not scared of it,” she says, because she isn’t.

“You should be.” Mugen replies. “I am.”

Moka isn’t sure how to respond to that, and raises her hand to finger her rosary in contemplation. She thinks the shadow must be a part of Mugen, except maybe it’s kept separate from her, like Moka’s true self. Moka wouldn’t say she’s afraid of her true self but she is wary of her. But maybe that isn’t the case for Mugen at all, not if she reacts to that strange shadow like this.

“What is it?” Moka tries again.

Mugen slowly pulls her hand away from Moka. Moka lets her, if only to let Mugen have the space she needs for whatever she’s about to say. Mugen folds her arms against herself, glaring at her shadow like it had personally spited her. “A curse,” Mugen spits.

The shadow on the floor distorts.

Mugen lifts her steel eyes to Moka’s. “I’m not a good person, Moka-san.” Mugen says, and Moka wants to interject but Mugen forges on without stopping. “I’m not nice. I hurt people and didn’t care what happened to them, didn’t care about anything. And because of that, I was cursed. This shadow is just a reminder of that and what happens when I lose control of myself.”

“But you are a nice person,” Moka contests strongly when Mugen pauses. She doesn’t care for her Mugen putting herself down, not when she’s already embedded herself in Moka’s heart as her first friend. Years of loneliness, heavy and cold, made lighter only with a day by Mugen’s side, are vivid behind Moka’s eyes, fueling the passion in her argument. “If you weren’t, you would have just left me this morning. And if you weren’t nice, you wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Mugen shakes her head. “There’s a difference between being decent and being nice, Moka-san.”

“You’re nice enough to step in between Saizou and I when you didn’t have to. You’re nice enough to be my friend. And you don’t have to be _nice_ to be my friend, if that’s not what that is. Because I like you as you are.” Moka says testily. “You’re the only friend I’ve ever had, but I like to think I have good taste in choosing them.”

Mugen mouth twitches. “Would you be my friend if you knew what I was, though?” she asks, turning to face Moka fully.

Moka’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t told you what I am,” Mugen reminds her. “There’s a reason for that.”

“Then tell me. I’ll still tell you the same thing. You’re my friend.”

Mugen smiles, then, at Moka’s heartfelt words. It lacks warmth. “Then let me ask you this, how do you really feel about humans?”

Moka stops. A chill rolls down her spine and there’s a niggling in the back of her head. She can’t mean. . . But, no. There’s a barrier surrounding the school. No humans can get in, not without help. Mugen couldn’t be. And humans don’t have powers like that, even if Mugen says it’s a curse. “What does that have to do with what you are?”

“Just answer the question and I’ll tell you,” is Mugen’s swift rebuttal.

Moka rolls the question over in her mind, looking it over for hints. But the most obvious thought can’t be true. If it is, Moka doesn’t know what it means. Hesitantly, she decides to answer honestly. “Humans are . . . they’re scary. And I can’t pretend I don’t resent them for how they’ve treated me. They haven’t hurt me physically, but the pain they’ve caused me—I don’t think I’ll ever forget how they made me feel.”

Mugen closes her eyes. “I understand. That’s what I thought.”

Mugen takes a step forward, past Moka who moves aside as Mugen approaches the door. Then Mugen stops. “But even expecting that, why does it hurt?”

Moka’s heart drops. “Mugen-chan?”

Mugen shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Moka-san. . . I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have gotten attached. I should have just told you earlier, when you told me how you felt. I think I made this worse on both of us.”

“What do you mean?” Moka asks—no, there’s something in her voice, something strong—she’s demanding, not asking. Fear drives her desire for answers, now. Something’s she’s always wanted and only just found is slipping away from Moka, and she knows this deep in her gut. “What do you mean, Mugen-chan?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mugen grabs the doorknob. “I’m a human.”

Moka watches with wide eyes as Mugen twists the knob and pulls the door open. Moka moves, maybe to stop her, maybe to—she doesn’t know. She can’t think. This doesn’t make sense. Is she losing a friend? Is a human going to expose them to the horrors of humanity’s great, merciless fear? Is Mugen, the human, leaving Moka, the monster, behind?

She doesn’t know what to do.

But Mugen is _leaving_.

_No. Please. Not like this. Not when I finally had. . .!_

Moka is inches away from pulling Mugen back. What was she going to do when she made contact? She didn’t know.

But—

Mugen’s shadow moves up, takes shape—a fog of black that repels Moka. She gasps in shock as her hand refuses to push through the grainy black cloud of pressure. Mugen’s back, wavering through the fog, looks so small and lonely.

“Mugen-chan!” Moka yells, but the black sand is travelling down her arm now. The shadowy bust of a head takes shape in the cloud, and Moka can almost see its dark lips laugh at her cruelly. Does Mugen mean for this? Is she controlling it now? Or is it her curse? “What are you doing?!”

 _Don’t leave me!_ Moka wants to say instead. _It’s okay that you’re a human,_ is something else, but she’s not sure entirely sure it’s the truth. _I want you to stay!_ is another, the last, the part of her that is small, and just as lonely as Mugen’s retreating back in the growing darkness. But this darkness is draining the thoughts from her, though, the will to struggle. She realizes it’s sucking the energy out of her when Mugen glances back at her.

“Humans are cruel, aren’t they, Moka-san?” Mugen quotes, stepping outside as the shadows reach Moka’s neck. “It’s true. It’s why I was cursed. But even with this curse . . . it doesn’t change what I am.”

Mugen stops just outside the door, hand on the doorknob. “I was stupid, because I think for a minute there I thought I could be something else. Do something other than hurt people. _Pretend_ I could have friends and be good, for a day, at least. But I’m starting to think it’s just my nature.”

Mugen looks down at the grains of black that begin to coat the floorboards. “But it’s okay, Moka-san. I’ll do what I need to, and I won’t darken your doorstep a second longer. Just know there’s other people out there. Nice people. You can make better friends. It’s better this way, anyways—I was never any good at it.”

Mugen turns to see Moka, who’s since slumped onto the floor in a daze, hand still outstretched but eyes drooping closed. “It’s actually a good thing,” Mugen says gently, but part of it sounds like she’s trying to reassure herself.

Moka wants her to stop. To stop sounding so sad.

“You’ll see. You’ll be happier without me. I’m no good.”

Mugen turns off the lights and shuts the door as Moka’s consciousness slips away from her.

“Goodbye, Moka-san.”


	2. guiding moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mugen knows what she's doing. She's fixing this before she can hurt anyone else. Moka shouldn't worry about her. So why the hell does Moka think she needs saving? Doesn't she know that she's the only one in danger?
> 
> (That's probably her fault, she hasn't told Moka anything.)

“You wanted answers?” the headmaster hums, face enveloped in the shadows of his priest hood. Mugen doesn’t ask why a monster (presumedly) wears the robes of a priest and dangles a cross from his neck.

“No,” Mugen replies, standing before his desk in the dark, near spartan-like office. Few knick-knacks adorn the shelves, and a crystal ball sits on a cushion on the desk, glimmering with different images of the school at several angles. “I want a cure.”

“For your powers or for your permanence?”

“Aren’t they one in the same thing?” Mugen asks, folding her arms in front of her. She anxiously taps her fingers against her biceps. Her eyes are veined with red; the headmaster surely notices, but he doesn’t deign to ask what she’s been crying over. The reasons were many, as they both were aware. “They’re tied together. They’re both symptoms of my curse.”

“So you say,” the headmaster comments. “I would have thought you’d give me more time before knocking on my door. It’s only just the first day of school—wouldn’t you like to enjoy the academy a bit more before we take such irreversible actions? You might find that you’ll change your mind. You’ve only just entered our world and the academy has much to offer. With your upbringing and abilities—”

Mugen interrupts. “The first day has made up my mind, actually. So can we just get this over with?” Mugen would, before her curse, have treated authority figures with more respect, but misery has a way of making formalities seem pointless. “What do I have to do?”

The headmaster leans forward and steeples his fingers together, the disturbing grin beneath his cowl remaining visible. The cross on his chest swings against his robes while the beads of the cord clatter together. Mugen tries not to hyper-focus on the dangling cross as the sound repeats in her mind, like marbles running along the walls of her skull.

_Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink._

“Well, then. Seeing as I expected you later as opposed to now, I’ll need some time to find the appropriate measures to take. I was going to study your condition during your stay but I suppose I can perform personal examinations with this opportunity. Are you aware of my title as the Exorcist?”

“No, but I can guess as to what that role entails. Are you going to exorcise me, then?”

_Demon, demons, you think we’re demons? You want us out? You want us to go? No. NO. We won’t leave, you don’t get to abandon us. We'll always be with you._

“Possibly,” the headmaster admits while inclining his head, grinning again at the notion. “If your condition proves amenable to that course of action, then that’s what we’ll do. Note that that route will cause a great deal of pain, though, but I’m not sure you care if you’re already set on _curing_ yourself. Do you even know what you are? Do you care to know?”

Mugen averts her eyes. Moka’s face, shocked and uncomprehending, flashes in her mind.

The voices whisper in her ears again. Shadows big and small that only she can see mock her.

_Human. Human._

_Are you human? Are you sure? Are you a monster? Does it matter?_

_You’re terrible either way!_

_A witch! A demon! CURSED!_

_Cursed, cursed, cursed._

Bitterly, she responds, “I’m a human. A cursed one, but still human either way. I won’t pretend otherwise.”

The Exorcist laughs. “Is that what you think?”

“I’m pretty sure.” Mugen says dryly. "I was born human, raised as a human, and i lived as a human."

To be human was to suffer, though, as she’s learned, and Mugen is so tired of suffering when she doesn’t see the point. She’s tired of watching the march of others so like her, but not, get to end while she’s forced to endure until her feet bleed on this path that leads to nowhere.

“That may be true,” the headmaster agrees, amusement clear in his tone. “But will you die as one? That remains to be seen.”

Mugen nose wrinkles in disgust. “Why are you creepy old man types so vague? Just say what you mean and leave the drama to the theatre kids.”

The headmaster shakes his head. “I’m of the mind that everything happens for a reason. Telling you young ones is never enough. Plus, it’s so much more enjoyable to see you stumble around for the truth on your own. The mayhem youth cause in their struggle to find themselves is a play worthy of applause, in my eyes.”

“Great. Well, I already know what I am, you don’t have to tell me, so just let me know what I have to do so we get this _show_ over with.”

The Exorcist sighs though his smile widens. “Very well. If you’re set on this, return here in one hour. At that time, we will commence examining the nature of your condition and how to absolve you of it. Be prepared for a long night.”

Mugen frowns. “What? Why can’t we start now?”

The headmaster unfolds his hands, gesturing to the room. “This is hardly a room fit for the trials I see before us. Not to mention, I have none of the tools necessary to begin scratching at the surface. A case like yours is rare and I’ve personally never faced such a dilemma before.”

“Wait, does that mean you’re not even sure you can cure me?” Mugen realizes, frown deepening into a scowl as her brows slant.

The Exorcist nods. “Correct.”

“Then why did you send that letter?” Mugen demands, stomping forward to slam her hands onto the desk. “In it, you promised—!”

“An answer, a solution perhaps,” the Exorcist recites easily, unfazed. “But not a cure.”

“ _Urghhh!_ ” Mugen leans back, throwing her head to the ceiling. Her shadow stretches to swallow each slice of light filtering through the curtains. Her eyes glint like a blade in the dark when she drops her head back down to fix a glare on the Exorcist. “You better _hope_ you have a solution. I’m not afraid to become a pain in your ass if you don’t fix me. Because if you can’t fix me, you sure as hell can’t stop me.”

“Are you threatening me?” the headmaster muses, grin widening. “Adorable.”

“One hour. _One_.” Mugen hisses, and goes to leave the room.

“One more thing, Anzen-chan.”

Mugen stops and the glow of her silver glare as she looks over her shoulder could drive wolves mad.

“If you don’t show up, I’m going to assume you’re reconsidering your stance on this. Should you come to me after that, I will require you to perform a task for me as recompense for wasting my time.”

“I’ll show up. You don’t have to worry about that.”

The headmaster watches with interest as takes the darkness with her. When the door shuts, he shakes his head to himself and closes his eyes. “The kids these days always make things more complicated than they have to be.”

* * *

Outside, Mugen paces. She doesn’t even know what to do for three hours, she realizes. The halls were practically barren, classrooms empty. She couldn’t go back to the dorms. Mugen groans, closing her eyes to the afternoon sun as it burns through the hallways glass windows in hues of molten gold and orange. The shadow beneath her starts murmuring to her.

_Moka, Moka, Moka, Moka. Why’d you have to do that to her? You didn’t have to be alone anymore. But now you are. Of course you are. Moka. . ._

“Shut up,” she hisses at it but it only grows louder. She grits her teeth, pressing a hand to her head as it starts to sing in place of words. “Why are you doing this? Just leave me alone for once. _Please_.”

The shadow denies her. It stretches, jagged and pulsing on the floor to make itself more apparent. Mugen doesn’t understand why it’s behaving more erratically lately. The darkness has been more active than ever before since she’s stepped foot in this realm, and all the voices that reside in it. Why, oh, why is it so agitated?

She just doesn’t know.

Before she can put more thought to it, her shadow erupts into a scream, painful like that split second where someone puts their earbuds in but doesn’t realize they have the volume turned all the way up. Mugen stumbles, clutching at her head with a cry.

 _Why are you doing this?!_ she demands as her teeth grind from the pressure.

_We want out. Outside, outside, outside, O U T S I D E, O U T, O U T!_

It doesn’t give her an option.

The hallway twists with shadows that reach for her as Mugen runs, slamming into the first double doors that have EXIT glowing in neon red above them. The noise chases her, her shadow staying in the hallway even as its snared at Mugen’s pounding feet. The world blurs at the edges of her vision, clipping like cut up photographs left to the wind. The shadow is doing this. Torturing her again with its sick games. She slams her eyes shut to avoid seeing reality break before her, running blind.

But the shadows play with puppets behind her eyelids, and she sees herself, about to be crushed by a gigantic, shadowy hand. The shadows laugh, and whisper warnings.

_Behind you, watch out, he’s behind you, he’s going to squash you like the bug you are, watch out, watch OUT!_

Mugen screams in frustration, tripping and falling to her knees as she tries in vain to shout over the voices. “Shut up! I’m outside now just like you wanted, so leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”

“Are you talking to yourself?”

Mugen doesn’t even hear him at first. When she does she's not even sure he’s real and not just another voice in her head. She only becomes aware of him when she’s lifted up by the back of her jacket, dangling in the air. She flinches and opens her red-tinged eyes as her arms drop from her head.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Mugen groans as she’s spun around to see her captor.

Komiya Saizou leers back. The smirk on his face is enough to make Mugen want to rip her hair out.

“What the fuck do you want?” Mugen demands after several blinks that prove he’s not a hallucination. The voices hush her as Saizou’s eye twitches, a muscle jumping in his face as his smirk drops a fraction. _Bad word, bad word, you said a bad word._ “No, really, what do you want? Because this—this is just, a really, really bad time for whatever pissing contest you want to have, and I’m already dealing with enough yelling in my head right now, so—do you mind letting me go? Pretty please?”

Saizou stares at her before he chuckles. It’s slow at first but the shaking in his shoulders builds into a roar of laughter so loud it startles the crows. “Nah, I don’t think I will,” he manages to say, after his fit of cackling dies down. “See, if I had known you were a loon, I would have put you down ages ago. It’s a good thing I decided to follow you. . .”

Mugen grimaces as Saizou shakes her around with one bulging arm, his sleeves tearing. Were the shadows playing more tricks on her or was his body growing and becoming increasingly disfigured? “Why do I get the feeling you and I have a different definition of 'put down'?”

Before she knows it, Saizou’s doubled in height and tripled in muscle, and her world goes sideways. She’s being thrown into a tree. She distantly hears her ribs snap and feels the jagged pieces of bone lacerating her insides. Her mouth opens wide, maybe to scream, but before so much as a pained exhale could escape Saizou, or the monster he has become, seizes her with his thick whip of a tongue. He swings her around again, up and then into the ground so fast and hard that her brain knocks around in her skull.

She can’t breathe, and the pain wracking her body is equivalent to being in a car crash.

_Car crash, car crash, stop light, red, red, red, screeeeee—_

_Now isn’t the time,_ Mugen thinks in an effort to silence the voices. _Not now, not now, not now,_ she tells them. The pain is disorienting but not unfamiliar. This isn’t good, but it’s fine, she can deal with it if the voices would just _shut up!_

 _You should have listened to us,_ the voices reply scornfully.

“Listen, I don’t really care to do this, but you pissed me off.” Muffled, she hears Saizou speak as the tongue retracts, rolling her onto her back. “Really, I was being kind earlier when I offered for you to join Moka-san and I, but you had to be such a _bitch_ about it. Sometimes it’s fun, but when you girls try too hard to play hard to get it’s a real turn off.”

The ground quakes with his heavy stomps. Each vibration sends a painful hum into her body, and she claws at her shadow. _Why won’t you help me?_ she wonders, even as unafraid as she is of the fate awaiting her. _You hurt him earlier. Why won’t you do it again?_

A singular voice answers her. This time it sounds like her own.

_You deserve it._

_Fair enough,_ Mugen thinks.

“I like to think I’m a gentleman,” Saizou drones on, looming over Mugen’s broken form. “Mama told me to never hit a lady. But you’re not a lady, are you? You’re just a freak who was asking for it. ‘Sides, I owe you for earlier.”

Saizou’s brutish hand, three times as large as Mugen’s head, plucks at Mugen’s arm. He raises her up carelessly and she hangs limply in his grip as his free hand pinches at her other arm with two fingers. When she is suspended by her arms in the air, Saizou lets his tongue slither out again, flicking at Mugen’s face. She barely has the energy to cringe in disgust.

“Looking closely, you might have a pretty face,” Saizou comments darkly, “But those scars of yours really ruin the whole thing. Nobody wants something broken.”

_Broken, broken, broken, broken, you’re ruined, you’re ruined, we always told you so. Why didn’t you listen? You never listen._

Mugen just looks at Saizou from under her lashes, finding her vision blurry, one eye flooding with the blood— _bleeding, she’s bleeding, this is blood_ —running down the crown of her head. She shakes terribly but Saizou is surprised to find it from a rising cacophony of giggles. “Boy, you talk a lot,” Mugen says thickly through the pain, head lolling.

“You little shit,” Saizou’s tongue whips out, and slaps her hard enough across the face that she flies from his grip and through the trees. Her body skims bark and Mugen blacks out, but she can’t say for how long. When she comes to, Saizou’s still talking. “You really don’t know what you’re dealing with do you? Or are you just that crazy? I honestly think I’m doing you a favor here, putting you out of your misery. You’re not even fighting back, so you must know it too.”

 _This is bad,_ Mugen finally acknowledges, watching the blurry image of Saizou returning for her again. _At this rate, I’m going to be late._

_Late, late, late, we’re late, we’re—wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. W A I T. What’s that? What is that?_

_Listen,_ says a voice more soft than the rest.

A faint cry echoes. Mugen twitches violently at the familiarity of it and Saizou stops, tilting his head.

Only now does she feel fear.

 _No. No, no, no. You can’t be here,_ Mugen begs. _Please don’t come here._

Saizou’s lips stretch into a slow grin when the cry echoes again, and Mugen’s heart drops.

“Ah, Moka-chan! We’re over here! Come join the fun!”

“N-no,” Mugen mutters into the dirt, fingers arcing into the ground like claws. The beating Saizou has done to her stubborn body made it refuse to move the way she commands it to. She glares with one eye at her shadow, demanding it to help. “S-s-sto—!”

Saizou stomps on her back just as Moka comes into view, and the scream that erupts from her echoes in several different voices within Mugen’s mind.

“Mugen! No, stop, stop!”

Moka runs for her but Saizou has a new target now, one that he’s wanted to play with the moment he saw her. “Ah, ah, Moka-chan!” he jeers, tongue hanging out. “If you want to join the fun, you have to say my name instead!”

And then he strikes, tongue flashing out like a frog and snaring Moka in its slimy grip. She yelps but even then she’s only looking at Mugen. “Let me go! Mugen! Mugen! What did you do to her? Why are you doing this?!”

Saizou frowns. “What did I just say? Girls really don’t know when to shut up and do what they’re told!”

With a swish of his tongue he slams Moka into a tree. The pained cry she lets out resounds in Mugen’s head to the point she can’t hear anything else, and she shuts her eyes in misery at the sight of Moka falling victim to Saizou. Her cavalier attitude towards her situation has dropped now that Moka has joined her.

Mugen grits her teeth. _Why did you come? Why are you here? Why, Moka? Why, why, why, why?_ _Why do you care?_ Mugen laments. _You shouldn’t have come! Not for me!_

_Human. Freak._

Moka screams when Saizou’s tongue coils around her again.

_Cursed._

_All your fault, all your fault. . ._

“All I want is for you to be my girl, Moka-chan.” Saizou says, “But this bitch here tried to get in the way of that. I had to get rid of her. She’s still hanging on, though. Would you like to see?”

Mugen lays terribly still as she hears Moka near her, the vampire suspended in the air by Saizou. She’s struggling, Mugen can hear her even if she can’t see her. It doesn’t make any sense to her. Mugen doesn’t need help, doesn’t deserve it, so why is Moka even here? Why is she even bothering? Doesn’t she know it doesn’t matter what happens to Mugen?

Mugen isn’t worth it.

She’s weak. Pathetic.

But for once Mugen doesn’t want to stew in her weakness. She loathes it with a passion that chases away the chill of darkness clouding her mind, every thought and sense coming into sharp clarity. She hates this. She didn’t want Moka to be hurt. She doesn’t want Moka to suffer because of her.

_This is my fault._

“Mugen-chan, please,” Moka whispers. Her words are thick with tears. Why is she even bothering? Why was she here, suffering for Mugen’s sake? “Please, you have to—you can’t die, I haven’t—I can’t, this can’t end like this, you don’t know. . .”

Mugen hears chain links rattle in her head.

“Mugen, I’m sorry! What you are doesn’t matter; you’re still my friend! I still want to be your friend!”

Mugen opens her eyes, shocked.

Saizou shakes Moka harshly, throwing her down onto the ground beside Mugen. “So you know she’s crazy too, Moka-chan? But you still want to be friends with this trash? Ridiculous. But it’s okay. Once we’re official, I’ll set you straight!”

Mugen blearily sees Moka crawling for her. Saizou is closing in. Moka’s alabaster face smudged with dirt turned to mud from tears. Her rosary swings, ruby gem glowing angrily.

Moka came for her, to apologize, to tell her . . . even now, as Saizou hurts her, that she wants to be Mugen’s friend.

Unbelievable.

Ridiculous.

But for once, Mugen wants to believe in miracles.

 _Grab it, grab it, grab it, grab it, grab it, you have to_ grab _it—_

Mugen doesn’t think. She doesn’t ask why. Instead, she propels her broken body forward, shadows coalescing along her body in a frightening shroud that fuels its every movement. With eyes of white, she meets Moka’s wide, wet gaze, her hand catching on Moka’s rosary. In the few seconds of resistance as the chain resists her, Mugen’s mind finally goes silent.

There are no voices. Only her breathing and Moka’s are heard.

When a thought does reach Mugen, it is only one.

_Protect her._

Mugen doesn’t know whose voice it is. She doesn’t know why she’s smiling, weak as it is, either. She feels so stupid, but . . . how long has it been since she let her face be so honest? How long had it been since she felt this happy? The warmth and delight in her chest are somehow just as pure as the fleeting memories of her childhood, when she was small and so full of life.

Moka really was something, to make Mugen bother with such silly, sentimental things as happy memories.

“I’m . . . really glad you’re my friend, Moka-san.”

The rosary snaps free from the choker.

Moka looks at Mugen in awe, and then explodes into light.

The flare bursting from Moka is so bright and disorienting that Mugen thinks she’s died, the shadows recoiling around her like frightened children. An oppressive force drops down upon the world, as though gravity has doubled. Mugen can barely hold herself up as it is. But then Mugen blinks, and gravity corrects itself while the world dims back into view. The pain of her broken body remains, reminding her that she is still, despite everything, alive.

Moka stands before her now, though Mugen can’t see her face. Mugen struggles to push herself up again, until Moka drops down to her knees—

“M-Moka?” Mugen breathes.

Yes, Moka.

Moka, whose cotton candy pink hair is now the silver glow of the moon. Moka, whose emerald eyes are now as red as Mugen’s blood had been against her lips, and as feline as the cat Mugen used to have. Her complexion is lighter, almost, and her fangs are vivid when she huffs, expression cold and full of disdain as she looks down on Mugen.

Everything about this red-eyed Moka sharply contrasts the sugary demeanor of her green-eyed counterpart; Mugen vaguely worries what that means for her attitude. She can’t help but stare as Moka presses a firm, pale hand on her to keep her from rising. Moka’s voice is lower than before when she speaks, thrumming with power. “Fool, do not exacerbate your injuries. I will not have my other self feeling anymore responsible for your condition than she already does.”

Mugen twitches then. “She shouldn’t be, I’ll—be okay,” she manages to get out, but Moka’s hand is an iron-bound anchor, pinning her to the ground. “I’ve dealt with w-worse than him.”

Moka arches a silver brow, threat entering her bloody gaze like a rust. “Oh? I find that hard to believe considering you’re at death’s door.”

Mugen chokes out a laugh. “D-don’t worry, that door isn’t opening any—any time soon. This ain’t gonna k-kill me.”

Moka, this other Moka, shakes her head at the sorry sight of Mugen’s crumpled body and her overconfident words. Before Moka can comment further, though, Saizou overcomes his awe of the vampire in front of him and steps forward with a loud thud. Moka stands at the reminder of his presence, stoic face abruptly dropping into a scowl.

“This. . . Moka-chan.. . . this is your true form?” Saizou gasps out.

Mugen leans up without Moka’s hand to keep her down. Moka catches the motion and sends a glare her way but Mugen fixates on Saizou, who is trembling at the sight of her friend.

 _Wait._ _This is what Moka meant, when she mentioned her true form? This is her, unsealed?_

In hindsight, it seems obvious. Mugen grasps tightly at the rosary in her hand. Moka unsealed is already vastly different in appearance and shows a complete one-eighty in personality—so what does such a drastic transformation mean in regards to her power?

 _“Even other monsters scorned me.”_ Mugen recalls Moka saying, and finds herself studying this Moka. There’s a thrill, looking at the silver-haired woman, like witnessing a tiger at work, raring to pounce as Moka stretches like she’d just woken from a deep slumber. She doesn’t even seem to consider Saizou a threat.

Mugen finds it hard to fear such natural beauty when the force of that nature’s attention isn’t directed at her.

“You’re even more beautiful than before,” Saizou announces, hands clenching to try and contain the excited— _fearful, fear, he’s afraid, look at him, he’s shaking!_ —tremors running through his arms. Mugen’s mouth twists into a frown, because she thinks it’s wrong to hold either version of more beautiful that the other when they both look stunning. “Ah, I can hardly contain myself looking at you!”

Moka scoffs, smirking. “Contain what, exactly? The urge to flee before an opponent greater than you?”

Saizou narrows his eyes at the taunt. “No, Moka-chan. It doesn’t matter what you are, I know I can take you. You will be my woman.”

“Then, if you think you can,” Moka begins with a glance back at Mugen that screams _stay where you are_ before sashaying towards Saizou, “just try and take me.”

Stopping just feet away, Moka extends an ivory hand and gestures in a mocking ‘come hither’ motion.

Saizou, well. He needs nothing else.

He charges, and Mugen watches and knows, in the way prey knows a predator, that Saizou against Moka is like a brain-addled rodent against a haughty house cat. How she does is uncertain, but if she doubts it at all, she doesn’t after seeing Moka easily sidestep him, letting him rush down the hill and take the dead woods down with him. The crackling of bark and branches snapping and splitting apart echo throughout the forest.

Saizou skids at the bottom of the hill, shakes himself and all the twigs clinging to him off with a frustrated yell. “You don’t get to make a fool of me!”

Moka chuckles. The low, throaty sound is nearly seductive. Perhaps that is just the nature of vampires when their nature is unleashed—predatory, alluring, like a hungry shepherd guiding her lambs to the slaughter. “I don’t have to, seeing as you’re doing a fine job of it on your own.”

Furious at the jeer, Saizou turns around for another go but Moka has already closed the distance with a leap. Midair, she spins herself like a pinwheel, heel colliding against his skull with a crack so fierce Mugen expects to see Saizou’s brains spill out. He falls like a tree, and only Mugen and Moka are around to hear him hit the ground.

Just like that, it’s over.

He doesn’t move when Moka drops down to the ground. Admiring her handiwork, Moka cocks a hip, flipping her lengthy hair over her shoulder and yawning in a manner that made the brief exchange seem like a waste of her time. “Don’t bare your tusks at me if you’re not up to the task, pig.”

Mugen raises a brow at the insult. Looking at Saizou’s prone form, she has to ask, “Is he dead?”

If she sounds hopeful at the prospect, well, that’s because she is. Though Mugen didn’t care much about the beating, Saizou’s general personality as witnessed within the span of a few hours was one the world could easily do without.

Moka looks over her shoulder at Mugen before turning and striding towards her. “Unfortunately not,” Moka answers, and Mugen gets the idea that she’s even taller than her sealed form when she stands over Mugen. Mugen can’t be sure when she’s laying like a stringless puppet on the ground; it could honestly just be that in this form Moka’s very presence if magnified. “Disappointed?”

“Maybe a little,” Mugen grunts out, sighing. “He’s an asshole.”

“I would be surprised if you weren’t,” Moka says, surveying the extent of Mugen’s injuries. She doesn’t look fit to be moved. Despite how Mugen had said she’d be okay, the truth of her statement seems debatable. She frowns at Mugen. “You’re hurt badly. How did you let it come to this? I saw you handle him quite easily earlier so I assumed you held some strength to you. But looking at you now, perhaps I was wrong.”

“You’re aware of what goes on in your sealed form?” Mugen asks, somewhat surprised, before shaking her head and answering the question. “If so, you know I said I was cursed. I can’t control these powers; they typically only react to my emotions.”

Moka’s eyes narrow. “And what did you feel when that pig was assaulting you? Fear?”

Mugen has the sense to look sheepish at Moka’s scrutiny. “Nothing, actually.”

“Nothing? What do you mean _nothing_?” Moka demands, obviously not happy with Mugen’s answer. Her tone is icy. “Were you just sitting there, taking it?”

“Hey, you asked me what I felt,” Mugen replies defensively, shrugging. She winces when she feels the fragments of her ribs shift. “I can’t control what I feel and if my shadows don’t help I’m no better than a regular person. So, when I didn’t feel anything except—oh. Shit. _Shit_.”

“What is it?” Moka reaches out, alarmed by Mugen’s shift in tone. As irritated as she is by the human allowing herself to be brutalized, she doesn’t want Mugen—her other, more sentimental side’s first and only friend—to die for her foolishness.

“I’m late to meet the headmaster.”

“You. . .” Moka curls her lip at Mugen, growling. She’s already frustrated by the girl’s lack of self-preservation. “I’m not sure what my other half sees in you besides your blood. If you drag her into more trouble, understand that I won’t always bother to save you if you plan to allow yourself to be beaten.”

Mugen grunts, looking away. “I didn’t ask to be saved.”

“Ungrateful child. . .” Moka raises a hand to her head. “Whether or not you wanted it, my other half demanded it of me. If you take offense to our intervention then explain that to her. But should you hurt her. . .”

“You talk about her like you’re two separate people,” Mugen notes. She lays back, losing the last vestiges of strength in her limbs. The pain is a dull throb in the back of her head superseded by the voices. She can’t tell what they’re saying now and that’s probably because of all the thrashing her head took. She shuts her eyes.

“We are,” Moka reveals, staring down at the aggravating human. “What we value and how we react, even our appearances are entirely different. We’re two sides of the same coin. We may share the same name but we have different faces. And unlike my outer self I hold no attachment to you, so I will not hesitate to remove you should you prove to be a bad influence on her.”

“Big sister, much?” Mugen comments lowly. She rocks her head on the ground, opening her eyes only to roll them and stare through the gaps in the trees. “You’re saying all this but if you really don’t care, why are you hanging around? Why not get rid of me now before I have the chance to hurt her?”

Moka furrows her brows. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Moka goes quiet when the human raises one hand, the other pulling back a torn sleeve. The scar revealed is long, jagged, and Moka can see its twin peaking out of Mugen’s other sleeve. But on each wrist is a tattoo, semi colons that are separated by the blatantly self-inflicted marks. Moka doesn’t look away even though the sight is personal and spawns an awkward stirring in her breastbone. She blames her other half for the ache she feels.

“If you want to kill me before I can do anything to Moka, I won’t protest.” Mugen says, too easy, dropping her arms and finding Moka’s scarlet gaze when they pull away from Mugen’s wrists at her words.

Moka, surprising Mugen, snarls. “Quiet. I will not stand for such a thing. My power is not meant for fulfilling others’ wishes and my other half cares for you, so you need to take responsibility for allowing her to become attached to you. You yourself said she was your friend.”

Mugen frowns. Her words are slurring when she speaks next. “You were just threatening me but now you’re saying you won’t kill me? What’s with that?”

“Removing you doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll kill you. I’m not sure my outer half would forgive me for it.”

Mugen pauses. The question on her mind since Moka showed up makes its way to the forefront, shouting over the garbled noise of her curse. “Why does she care so much?”

“You want reasons?” Moka asks dryly. “Well, live long enough to ask her and maybe she’ll tell you, silly girl. You won’t get them from me.”

Pouting, Mugen throws her arm over her face. “This side of you . . . is a bully,” she says.

“What?” The inner half of Moka scoffs. “No, I’m simply honest, and if you perceive my honesty as cruelty then you’re a child.”

“Hmph. Maybe I am.” A wind blows through the woods, trying to whisk strands of silver away. Dead leaves crinkle and roll over each other along the forest floor as the two creatures, both cursed human and vampire unsealed, breathe in the breeze. “Especially since, for a second there . . . that other side of you reminded me of a dream I used to have. . .”

“Oh?”

Mugen doesn’t answer her. The human’s eyes have slip closed again. Moka’s face twists first into annoyance, then concern when she hears Mugen’s shallow breathing.

Before she can act to examine Mugen’s unresponsiveness, the human’s shadow slithers up from under her, seeping into her body and arranging her bones into their proper places with loud snaps. Moka pauses and observes this all happen. She witnesses the cut on Mugen’s face seal up though the blood spilt from the wound stays drying on her skin. Before long the human’s breathing deepens to the norm of sleep, not a single protesting whimper coming from her as the audibly painful process of mending comes to an end.

After a long period where she finds herself just staring at Mugen, Inner Moka shakes her head, finding that her prickly emotions have given way to a curiosity and the rising protectiveness that could only be from her outer self.

She sighs.

“You are strange,” Inner Moka tells the sleeping girl. She bends down, slipping the rosary from Mugen’s grasp. She considers the cross thoughtfully.

Disregarding her own feelings towards Mugen, the human proves special beyond even her curse. Despite her strangeness, Mugen has the capability of taking the Rosario off of her. In only one day . . . this girl has come to care deeply for the outer Moka, even though the extent isn’t readily apparent. And despite Inner Moka threatening Mugen, she has a feeling that she’ll never have to act on them.

The human cares for her outer half.

But what it means for Inner Moka, she doesn’t know.

With one last glance down at the slumbering human, Moka returns the rosary to her choker.

“Be sure to take care of the other me.”


	3. the relief of dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mugen wakes up, takes a walk, talk to herself, gets scolded, gets scolded some more, and then agrees to learn how to cook, all in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow. Pretty, but very damaging. All I have to say at this point in time lmao.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this unbeta'd mess!

Mugen wakes slowly, consciousness flowing into her like granules of sand to the bottom of an hourglass. Unfamiliar white walls greet her and she winces at the brightness. Groaning, she sits up. The thin sheets draped over her shoulders fall instead into her lap. She’s in the infirmary, but she doesn’t quite remember how she ended up here until she looks to her side and sees Moka in another bed.

The vampire sleeps soundly. Judging by Moka’s unconsciousness, someone else must have found them out in the woods and brought them here. Mugen turns her head, swiveling it around to observe her surrounding better. The windows reveal the pitch of night between the curtains. The clock ticking on the wall tells Mugen that it’s easily past midnight.

_Late, late, late, late. . ._

The unwanted reminder makes Mugen purse her lips.

There’s no one in the room with them. There’s an adjoining door, separate from the hallway, that might be the school nurse’s quarters, or just a closet. Saizou, notably, isn’t here, though considering Moka bludgeoned his head he might need more urgent care if he truly survived. Mugen notes the lack of restraints on both her and Moka with a smidgen of surprise, because Saizou must have been found with them in far worse condition than either of them. Then again, maybe a school full of monsters truly didn’t care to take human measures with such brutality. Mugen isn’t sure simple restraints would stop a monster such as Moka anyways.

 _Moka. . ._ Mugen turns her head towards the only other occupied bed in the infirmary. Moka’s slumbering face is peaceful and the rosary lays against her chest. Testament to her resealing, her silky hair has returned to its vibrant shade of pink.

_Why. . .?_

It still doesn’t make sense to Mugen why Moka would bother with her. Why she would want to be her friend. Hadn’t Moka spoken against humanity, having suffered at the hands of people, and bullied by kids like Mugen, enough to know that the rot within humankind ran deep even at what should be their most innocent point? The innermost part of Moka seems to know that Mugen isn’t worth their time.

How long would it take for the rest of Moka to come to that obvious realization?

Mugen runs a hand through her hair, undone from its braid. She always feels adrift, drowning in a sea of questions devoid of lifeboats to answer them. She had a chance today, or really yesterday, to have some of them answered—her most pressing problems potentially solved, even—but Moka had come along and spawned more. Distracted her. Became so radiant that Mugen thought to become her shadow, and protect her without thinking. And so Saizou was struck in Moka’s defense, and Saizou only struck back when Mugen showed herself vulnerable.

Mugen used to pride herself on her ability to detach from people. To avoid clinging to them. As a child, she witnessed how such bonds could dissolve into unrelenting heartache and misery, and experienced the agony firsthand on a total of three accounts. After that, she thought herself above it. But day one at Youkai Academy showed her the futility of denying the natural urge for companionship, and she sunk too deep without realizing she didn’t have enough in her to come back up for air. It was no surprise she was punished for it.

Why hasn’t she learned her lesson already?

_You’re pathetic. You don’t deserve it but that doesn’t stop you from being so greedy as to reach for it. You’re p a t h e t i c. When will you learn?_

Mugen presses her palms against her eyes, digging the heels of them into her sockets. She needs to leave Moka behind. For both of their sakes. She knows that. She does.

But . . . she’ll admit it: she’s selfish. Some part of her still clings to that dream of peace, one without the chill that was just there enough to make her uncomfortable, never chased away by any blanket or fire. Moka exudes a warmth so great that Mugen had unknowingly strayed into her fire, and like a phoenix made a nest there, weary from a rain-drenched world that’s been devoid of the sun for too long.

_You’ve only known her for a day, and you’re waxing poetics. How lonely are you, to be so starstruck over the first person you meet who doesn’t see you for the garbage you are?_

Mugen’s jaw tightens and she drags her nails down her face; red welts are left in the wake of her self-loathing.

She needs air. Space. She can’t sit here, this small room that echoes with shadows. She throws the covers off and swings her legs over the edge. Air. Space. And then she can think, louder than the others, about what she needs to do.

Her feet are bare as she enters the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her. As expected, there’s no one out this late at night. Mugen wonders if there’s even security guards but figures otherwise. She finds her way outside, unheeded by the darkness that creeps into every corner and seeps out in the empty spaces between stars. The moon is a thin smile, dabbed at by the passing cloud.

She finds a bench and sits. The academy is set faintly aglow by the moon’s flickering smile out here, and there’s no one to disrupt her Mugen she struggles to empty out her mind. When the dark is all there is, it’s easier, somehow. Like the voices are spread out, growing more distant the more Mugen settles into that which she during the day rejects. It’s hard for them to reach her at night.

Funnily enough, Mugen hates the dark. She only adores the stars enough to endure it. Nights like this, when the sky is a glittering arrangement set in the negative of space, with no care for the horrors that occur beneath it, Mugen is as close as content as she can be. The world could end but the night sky would remain the same.

Mugen exhales. The chirps of crickets fill the void left by the voices. She rubs her wrists, feeling the flesh pebble up from the cold.

The first thing she thinks of is the missed meeting with the headmaster. The promise of a task should she return to him with the same demand. Considering the nature of the headmaster and his school, she ruefully acknowledges that it might be something nearly impossible for her as a human to complete—but that would not stop her from doing it. But in hindsight she now regrets the aggression and confidence she must have given off during her talk with the Exorcist—missing the meeting after all of that surely made the headmaster think her a posturing idiot.

_Probably why he added the threat of a task at all. If I had kept my mouth shut. . ._

Then, there’s Moka. Mugen wishes she could understand her, and understand her own feelings on the matter. She feels like she’s balancing on the top of a very tall fence with only her toes: does Mugen cut off her ties with Moka now before they grow any closer, like she knows she should, or embrace her new friend even knowing the inevitable pain that it will cause them both?

Mugen feels like shit even considering the first option, but the guilt of the second nearly eclipses it, because—

Moka risked her life for Mugen, knowingly or not, chasing after her yesterday. All to apologize and retain the budding friendship they’d only just developed. It could easily be seen as Moka clinging to the idea of her first and only friend, rather than Mugen herself, but maybe. . .

_Idiot. Do you think she actually gives a shit about you? How lonely are you to start fantasizing about impossible things?_

The bad thing about being in the dark, though, is that when the voices do manage to speak to her, it’s with such clarity and sentience that Mugen can’t even feign to ignore them. She hates these the most. The voices that make sense, that use reason and logic but never give her solutions, the ones that only mix up her mind further—they can torment her endlessly by driving her thoughts in circles.

_You don’t make any sense. Do you ever make up your mind? How many times have you made a choice of your own rather than sitting on your hands and waiting for it to be made for you? You’ll hurt her either way—why bother being indecisive about it? You won’t know what she would prefer without telling her, but then, you don’t know how she’ll react to your plans. Really, what would she think, having risked herself to save someone as doomed as you? Hehehe. . ._

Mugen drops her head down between her knees, breathing harshly. She grips at her knees and tries to will the belligerent phantoms away, but reason is hard to ignore.

_We all know you won’t tell her. Choose. Will you let your selfish loneliness overcome your guilt? Or will you let her walk away after all the effort she put into keeping this tenuous bond between the two of you? You are false either way. You will never be truthful to her. Do you even know what honesty is?_

“Why,” Mugen starts, heaving with nausea when presented with her options, “can’t you ever just leave me _alone?_ ”

The voice laughs.

 _You are alone. Mad, alone, and cursed. If I were to leave, you would be worse than that. You would be_ nothing _without me. You are only here because I allow you to be._

“I don’t need _you_ to remind me.”

_Ah, ah, ah, but we think you do. Look at you, talking to yourself. I thought you said you were past this? But ah, shush now. Someone’s coming. What will they think if they hear you?_

Mugen rears back, paying attention this time to the warning when it’s given.

A boy garbed in a black uniform approaches her from the side. Luminous spectacles reflect the moon and dark locks hang like seaweed over a pallid face. There’s an armband on his bicep and Mugen squints to read the kanji inscribed on it. Plainly, it denotes this stranger as a member of the Public Safety Commission.

 _So there is some form of security around here, huh?_ Mugen muses as the boy comes to a stop before her. His posture is not immediately threatening, so Mugen doesn’t choose to react until he speaks.

“Students aren’t allowed to be outside their dorms after curfew. I have to ask, what are you doing out here?”

Mugen’s side-eyes him, not eager to get in another fight so soon after waking up. Not to mention, Moka, either side of her, would probably be upset. Knowing this, Mugen stands and affects an appropriately apologetic facade. She smiles sheepishly and rubs her arm. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’m just getting air—I woke up in the infirmary just a bit ago. Yesterday was my first day here and I didn’t get the chance to learn all the rules yet.”

The boy levels her with a suspicious frown. “You know, hearing that you just came from the infirmary doesn’t exactly sound like you’re of good character.”

“Does the name Komiya Saizou ring any bells?” Mugen asks slowly. If this guy has heard of Saizou, or even seen him, then he could possibly get the idea of why Mugen was on bed rest. There’s almost no way, at least using human logic, that someone would see Saizou, then Mugen, and think Mugen’s the violent one by glance alone.

The student enforcer’s face alights with recognition, but instead of relaxing he goes tense. “That delinquent? Heard he almost got carted away in a casket. That was you?”

Mugen pauses, not really surprised by the severity of Saizou’s state but more in awe of Moka’s singular ability to down, and nearly kill, another person with a single kick. Put that up against a human like Mugen? She would have been mush. Mugen rids herself of that thought with a shake of her head. “No, my friend. He tried jumping me and got beat down for it.”

“Oh, well,” The enforcer’s shoulders relax infinitesimally as he shifts. “That’s understandable. But either way, students aren’t allowed to be roaming around after hours. You’re lucky it’s me, otherwise. . . Well. I’ll escort you back to the infirmary.”

Mugen raises a brow at how he’d trailed off but decides not to ask. Perhaps his cohorts were even more strict. “Okay,” she says instead, following obediently when the student officer inclines his head for her to start walking. The trip back is devoid of conversation, but the student officer does warn her before she reenters the infirmary to stay inside her dorms after hours once she’s allowed to leave.

Opening the door to the infirmary, Mugen sighs, but it turns into a yelp as she’s abruptly yanked into another body from behind. She cranes her head to see Moka’s tearful face burying into her neck.

“Mugen-chan! I thought—I thought you left, or—or maybe Saizou tried to hurt you again, and—where were you?”

Caught as thoroughly off-guard as she is, Mugen has to process the fact that she’s being hugged tight before she can register the question Moka puts forth like a demand. “S-sorry, I woke up and just needed air,” she fumbles to explain when faced with Moka’s wet glare. “I—I didn’t mean to scare you?”

Moka’s forehead is knitted with consternation as she lets Mugen turn around in her arms. “You should have woken me up. What if Saizou tried to attack you again?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about him,” Mugen grins, faced with Moka’s now unnecessary concern. “From what I hear, he’s got a long recovery ahead of him.”

Moka’s distress smooths over into relief. “Good, then. He deserves what he got and worse.”

Mugen’s brows raise as Moka’s eyes flash with dark satisfaction. Did this side of Moka carry a sadistic streak? “I mean, I don’t disagree, but I’m kind of surprised to hear you say that. I kind of figured you’d feel bad.”

“Did you want me to?” Moka asks with an inscrutable tone, leaning back. 

Mugen’s mouth goes dry as she becomes intensely aware of how little distance is between them, an uncomfortable tingle prickling beneath her skin. _Moka’s too close,_ Mugen thinks, having been starved of touch since she can remember, and now realizing that for a second there Moka had been even closer. The proximity is too much after all the overstimulation Mugen’s already dealing with from the past twenty-four hours.

“N-no,” Mugen says, fidgeting as best she can with Moka’s arms still around her. The vampire either doesn’t get the hint or ignores it. “He did deserve it. I was just worried you’d feel bad.”

“I might have,” Moka confesses, going soft when it becomes apparent that Mugen isn’t judging her. “But he hurt you, and the things he said. . .”

And then Moka leans down so her forehead rests on Mugen’s. Mugen nearly combusts. She feels so heated that she’s sure she’s been set alight, burning bright enough that her shadow flees. She swallows thickly as Moka’s eyes find hers when Mugen has no other place to divert her gaze.

“You were hurt,” Moka says, brow furrowing in a way that Mugen can feel as she glances down at Mugen, then up to her forehead where there had once been a wound overflowing with blood. “It was bad enough that it might have killed a normal human. But you’re fine now. How?”

“. . . M-my curse has some benefits, you could say.” Mugen has to remember how to work her tongue, its weight heavy and cotton-feeling in her mouth. “Healing me is one of them,” she admits, hesitantly.

Pale hands tighten around Mugen as Moka moves to rest her chin in Mugen’s neck. “Is that why you didn’t fight back? You knew you’d be okay?”

Mugen doesn’t know how to answer. Moka senses her hesitation.

“Or is it like what Ura said. You. . .”

Ura?

 _Oh._ Inner Moka.

Right. Despite the difference, Inner Moka had been aware of what Outer Moka had seen. It’s reasonably to assume the connection goes both ways and that Outer Moka knows what Inner Moka does.

_Look at that. You might not even have to tell her. She’s smart enough to figure it out herself. What are you going to do now?_

Mugen licks her lips and chooses to stay silent.

Moka shakes her head in Mugen’s neck, disappointed; the movement rubs her nose into the slope of it. Mugen shivers. “You can’t,” Moka says, muffled.

Mugen tries to lean back, makes it obvious even, but Moka clings tighter. The resistance discourages Mugen, so she stops and tries a different avenue, “Moka?”

“I just found you. You can’t . . . just make me care about you, then up and leave!”

Mugen blinks. The laughter in her head isn’t hers. “Moka, I didn’t mean for this. To do this to you. I didn’t expect or even want to make friends when I came here, but it was just so easy with you—but still, my curse, it’s—”

Moka pulls back, putting her hands on Mugen’s shoulders. Despite Moka’s full powers being sealed, there still remains an inhuman strength beyond Mugen’s abilities to challenge keeping her in place. “I’ll help you,” the vampire swears. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll help you with your curse. Every curse can be lifted, surely. You don’t have to resort to that, I promise.”

“. . . That’s a big thing to promise,” Mugen points out, stunned. “You don’t even know exactly what my curse is or what it could take. And you hardly know me, so why would you offer this?”

Moka shakes her head, smiling faintly now. Her hair tickles Mugen’s cheek. “You’re my friend,” she reminds Mugen, though there’s still a touch of disbelief to her tone, as though she can’t believe it herself.

“But I’m basically a stranger.”

“Are you trying to convince me to just let you?” Moka frowns. Mugen must admit, the anger on her face in this form is far less intimidating than her more frigid half—if they were in any other circumstance Mugen might have even poked at Moka and compared her to an angry puppy. “It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been friends, because I plan on being friends with you for a lot longer if I have any say in it.”

Moka stares her down as she makes that declaration and Mugen finds herself without words. Speechless, really. What does someone say to that? Mugen doesn’t exactly have a guidebook for social interactions and what little experience she’s had with people doesn’t cover this. No one’s made an effort like this before to _stay_ with her rather than leave her.

_Look at her. So sweet, so protective. But she doesn’t know what you’ve done. What goes on in your head. She’d look at you differently if she knew. Will you tell her?_

This voice pauses, as though giving Mugen a moment to answer, but she hardly ever does. _No,_ it eventually answers for her. _You never will. Because you’re afraid. You’ll just try to push her away while reeling her back in, all while keeping your mouth shut._

The voice cackles mockingly.

_What a greedy soul you are._

Mugen’s face falls, affected by the phantom though she makes no mention of it. “But what if you get to know me and then decide you don’t want to be friends? Don’t say something you might regret.”

“I won’t regret it.” Moka promises.

“But—"

“No,” a finger presses against Mugen’s lips as Moka stops her. “I’m telling you I won’t regret it. This . . . I have a feeling,” she says, and steps back slightly to press her free hand to her chest, over her rosary. “That I need to do this. I don’t know why, but I know that you’re important enough to me already that I don’t care about that. If I can get over the fact that you’re human, then I can get over whatever else comes if that’s what it takes to be your friend.”

“You’re crazy,” Mugen laughs breathlessly. That small, dreaming part of her is delighted, but the shadows still try to hide it.

Moka smiles again and outstretches her hand. “Maybe. But do you believe me, Mugen-chan? Do you trust me?”

Mugen stares at the proffered hand. She looks back up at Moka.

Does she? Will she?

 _Do you want to?_ Mugen tilts her head, listening. This speaker’s different than the others, rarely heard, and far less antagonistic. It only ever questions Mugen with all the curiosity of a child who wants to know what happens next. _This goes against everything you planned for. Are you really willing to try?_

. . . Yeah, she is.

“I want to. Is that enough?”

Moka considers it, not knowing that Mugen wasn’t exactly talking to her. “I think so.”

Mugen refocuses then, nodding slightly. She takes Moka’s hand. “Okay, then.”

After her hand is in Moka’s, Moka reels her in for an even tighter hug. Mugen takes the embrace only a little bit better this time, and can feel Moka inhale against her neck. She thinks to offer, but she’s tired and not thinking straight anymore, so she decides against it. Maybe in the morning.

Moka yawns as though to agree.

After the emotional whirlwind of the first day of school, the two find it mutually acceptable to return to their beds, and sleep until the nurse attempts to wake them in the morning.

* * *

They’re cleared to go back to school, though they’re allowed to miss that day due to the circumstances—a notice passed down to the nurse from the headmaster himself. Mugen has a feeling he’s aware of what transpired the day before.

With a whole day to themselves to recover mentally and emotionally from the first day’s upheaval, they decide to spend that time in Moka’s dorm, as Mugen’s is bare save for a single suitcase that she’s yet to unpack, shipped by the school beforehand. Moka insists on cooking, a fantasy of hers, Moka says. Mugen, of course, replies by saying she doesn’t have to, but concedes when Moka pouts.

Now, Mugen sits on the counter, forgoing the chair, and stares curiously as Moka goes about preparing the meal. When Moka turns on the faucet to wash her hands, Mugen is alarmed to notice its an odd green color, as though a grass-colored bath bomb had been thrown into Moka’s plumbing, and asks after it when Moka doesn’t react.

“Oh, my plumbing is separate from the other students. An herbal mixture has been added in, that’s why my water looks like that.” Moka says.

Mugen tilts her head. Sniffing, the herb-steeped water has a different smell to it, but it’s not repugnant. Mugen imagines the taste to not be much different. “Why is that?”

“Vampires are weak to water, holy or otherwise,” Moka explains simply as she fills a pot with the green water, but she does it without making it sound as if Mugen should have already known that. Moka tears open a bag of rice, pours half in the boiler, and reseals it. “It saps our powers, and even the slightest bit getting on our skin can be painful. The herbs that have been added into the water dilute it to the point it doesn’t affect us.”

“Oh. So what do you do when it rains?”

“Stay inside, mostly. But I’ve read that the barrier Youkai Academy is guarded by keeps a pretty moderate weather for the most part, so I thankfully don’t have to worry much about that. Barring that, there’s special accommodations made for some students with weaknesses like mine.”

“That’s good,” Mugen mutters, imagining that if they hadn’t Moka would have had to go through the extra trouble of treating the water beforehand. Washing her hands would have been annoying, showers impossible, and even flushing the toilet an uncomfortable risk. “I’m glad they think to do that for you.”

Moka hums, moving over to the pressure cooker that contained the simmering chicken curry. Mugen’s mouth watered when Moka lifted the lid and the scent wafted out to her. It’d been too long since she had homemade food, but she wouldn’t tell Moka that—besides being embarrassing, Mugen wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the drool pooling in her mouth from spilling out. “Yes, I’m really grateful to the school,” Moka says, stirring the curry thoughtfully before looking back at Mugen.

There’s something to Moka’s expression that makes Mugen flustered, but thankfully Moka doesn’t go on to say whatever sappy thing Mugen feels is on her mind. They haven’t known each other long but Moka’s already learning of Mugen’s difficulty with open affection. Moka smiles a small secretive smile either way and turns back to finishing up the food, swaying happily in place. When the rice has softened up enough, Moka pulls out two plates for them to make. After doing so, the two of them sit at the small table in Moka’s room, sitting on the tatami mats there.

They clap their hands together in a prayer-like manner. “Itadakimasu.”

And then they break apart their chop sticks and dig in. The first bite is a surprise, and each and every bite after that is near-bliss in the form of sustenance. Mugen closes her eyes at the taste, so different from the junk food and take-out she’s subjected herself to since. . . well. She cheerfully chews, swallows, and opens her eyes to get another bite, only to see Moka peering at her nervously from across the table.

“Is something wrong?” Mugen asks, tilting her head.

Moka shakes her head, but still looks troubled. “I was wondering . . . is it good?”

Mugen cocks a brow. Moka’s chopsticks are still clasped and unstained between pale fingers. “You haven’t tried it yet?”

Moka pouts. “No. I wanted to know what you thought of it first.”

“Were you worried it was going to taste bad?” Mugen asks, mock-offense plastered on her face. “Was I just some guinea pig for you to test your recipes on?”

“Mugen-chan,” Moka whines out, brows pinching in annoyance at the assumption. “That’s not it. I just haven’t ever cooked for anyone else before.”

“Really? I find that hard to believe,” Mugen leans forward to take another bite, swallowing before looking Moka square in the eye. “Because this is too delicious for me to be the only person you’ve experimented on.”

Now Moka looks red, the tips of her ears blending in with her hair, though the compliment makes it hard to hide her delight. She toys with the chopsticks and averts her gaze. “Are you teasing me again?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re smirking.” Moka points out with a huff, but her smile is hard to hide.

Mugen tries to diminish the upward tug of her lips, but it proves to be an insurmountable task. “I can’t help what my face does,” Mugen protests. “And I’m honestly not teasing you—or, well, completely, at least. I do really like it. The last time I had something this good was before middle school.”

_Before, before, before, before. . . before the end began._

“Really?” Now it’s Moka’s turn to question. “Why?”

Mugen shrugs. “My parents became really busy, so my mom didn’t cook much after I entered middle school. I was fine eating junk food and the like so I didn’t have to bother them.”

Moka’s mouth twists. “That’s sad, Mugen-chan. So you’re saying you haven’t had a proper meal until now?”

“It’s not that sad, a lot of people eat take-out every day,” Mugen says, as though there wasn’t anything depressing about that. “But yeah.”

Moka sets her chopsticks down with a shake of her head. Mugen watches her curiously as a sternness comes over Moka’s features. Moka fixes Mugen with a near-maternal look that has Mugen feeling like she just disappointed her mother. “That won’t do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eating like that isn’t healthy. You’re going to let me cook for you from now on,” Moka says. “And you’re going to learn how to cook if you don’t know already. I’ll teach you.”

“Oh, you don’t want that,” Mugen snorts in reply. She’s grateful for Moka’s concern, but Moka would learn Mugen’s a lost cause soon enough, in more ways than one. “I’m better off washing dishes after the fact than messing with anything that remotely requires heat—I have a tendency to set things on fire. Ever burn a grill cheese? Those things can turn into bonfires if you’re not paying attention.”

Moka picks up her chopsticks, daintily tucking into the curry. “You’re not getting out of this, Mugen-chan. I can’t, in good conscious, let you continue when your health is on the line.”

“But—” Mugen starts.

“Nope,” Moka interjects, lips popping on the ‘p’. “As your friend, you’ll let me teach you, won’t you?”

Mugen blanches at the earnest pleading sparkling on Moka’s face, unable to deny it. The vampire’s holding nothing back when it comes to charming Mugen into doing what she wants. Realizing this, Mugen sighs and submits. “. . . Ah, I guess. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yay! That was easier than I thought it’d be.” Moka comments, grinning. “I thought it was going to take more to convince you.”

“Whatever,” Mugen rolls her eyes.


End file.
